


An Observant Man

by sempaiko



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Kinda, M/M, PWP, Undercover Missions, Zeb is the stripper, fulcrum boys, kalluzeb - Freeform, kzfacpov, undercover strip club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 17:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30042537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempaiko/pseuds/sempaiko
Summary: Cassian thought he was making the right decision in picking Kallus and Zeb as his mission partners.  Zeb fit right in at the Imperial-frequented xeno strip club, after all, and Kallus was still very Imperial in looks.  It should go easily, right?Well, it would if Zeb and Kallus could keep their eyes - and hands - off each other.Kalluzeb : From a Certain Point of View : Cassian
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70
Collections: Kalluzeb: From a Certain Point of View ~ challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks SO much to ChocolateMudkip for the Beta and cheers. Thanks -as always- to HixyStix for the never ending support and suggestions (and the summary). 
> 
> This is for my own Kalluzeb Challenge happening this month. Check out my [tumblr](https://sempaiko.tumblr.com/post/640076039980253184/kalluzeb-challenge) for more info about it!

[Kalluzeb: From a Certain Point of View](https://sempaiko.tumblr.com/post/640076039980253184/kalluzeb-challenge)

* * *

Cassian Andor was an observant man. It was part of what made him good at his job as a fulcrum agent and rebel spy. Being a part of insurgencies and other uprisings all his life had honed his skills, but it was in Rebel Intelligence that he really found his footing. Or perhaps it was where the _Rebellion_ found him his footing. He didn't mind being the cause's literal blaster-hand at times, when needed, but Cassian was good at a great many other things as well.

He was also always the scoundrel-looking type, even if he trimmed his scruff and combed back his hair. He had a wiry build, thinner than most, and could put on the face of a killer with ease; he was one after all. His dark attitude was hardly a front either, his hatred for the Empire swelled with every mission and every scrap of Intel he managed to track and extract. 

The look was effective enough that even in _this_ seedy, grimy strip club, Cassian blended in so well with the other patrons that he hardly even went noticed as he attempted to get chummy with the bouncers and the wait staff. 

His _companion_ , however… 

Fellow fulcrum agent or not, Alexsandr Kallus was kind of shit at blending in. Between his tall build, almost regal features (even with his own scruff around his signature facial hair), and his obviously uncomfortable _squirming,_ he couldn't be _more_ Imperial. 

Which was _exactly_ why Cassian had requested the other fulcrum's presence for the mission. 

Kallus was to act the part of a clandestine Imperial officer looking for an exotic, but discreet, bit of fun in the dirty underground of the _interspecies_ clubs of Nar Shaddaa. Cassian was to be his hired companion -a bodyguard and guide- to the streets of depravity. The other man’s twitchy and awkward attitude would only improve the effectiveness of their cover story. 

Ducking into the club, Cassian ushered Kallus with a steadying hand on his back. It was something that he probably didn't need to do, since Kallus had been not-so-subtly studying the schematics of the place _in excess_ on the hyperspace trip into hutt space. However, it also added to the appearance of himself acting as the other man’s usher and bodyguard. 

The club's main room was an open area with a handful of stages: some with poles, and others with other structures to aid in whatever show was happening at the time. There were aliens of all kinds performing tonight, framed with bright, sparkling holos projecting images above them for the people unfortunate to have seats in the back (since they couldn't afford the creds for something closer). There were also a multitude of cramped booths lined with cheap but easy-to-clean synth letheris that curved to face the various stages, so they would have many options for their choice of seating.

Cassian steered them towards the middle of the room, near center stage, but not the front row. Even the Rebellion had only supplied them with a moderate stipend to use on this mission. Cassian knew that he could still spin it that Kallus was a curious ranking officer, and not some admiral or moff that would demand nothing but the best seat in the house, if someone asked about their story. 

They scanned their credit chip on an unoccupied booth. A light in the center of the small table turned from red to a dull yellow, an indicator of the quality and rank of their spending habits, according to the chip. Cassian settled into the seat with confident ease, unlike Kallus, who was taking a longer time to get comfortable and trying to push his fancy cape into a more manageable fold across his right shoulder. Cassian threw an arm over the back of the bench seat, brushing slightly over Kallus' back, and waved over a shapely twi'lek waitress, her aqua skin and lekku studded in gems and lace. 

" _My Nubian pearl,_ " Cassian began sweetly in Ryl, earning him a surprised smile from the girl. " _Can I bother you for a couple of drinks for my companion and I?_ " 

"Yes," she said in basic, probably encouraged to by the owners of the club, even though her native tongue was obviously preferred. "What would you like?"

"Corellian whiskey for me and something…" he went back to Ryl, " _something strong for my friend here. Need to loosen him up, if you know what I mean. He's used to so many rules and regulations."_

The twi'lek giggled genuinely; either that, or she was _very_ good at her job, which he supposed was very possible. She leaned over the back of the booth, her breasts teasing his arm that rested there, and whispered to him in Ryl, " _Loosen his pockets too?"_

Cassian's conspiratorial smile was part act and part truth. " _Exactly, my pearl. Let's try to knock some of his hair loose, huh?"_

" _Literally. Such a shame it's so… confined!"_ The twi'lek nodded and petted a hand through Kallus' crown of stiffly product-laden, slicked back hair, much to his companion's surprise. He jumped and ducked away from the touch and the girl just laughed and rubbed at his tensed shoulders a moment. 

"Relax!" Cassian chided at Kallus. "Enjoy yourself. This _pearl_ is very beautiful, don’t you think?" 

Kallus tilted his head away from the twi'lek, his discomfort registering for her to pull her hands away. He turned in his seat to give her a once over and quickly looked away. "While she is beautiful, twi's can be found in every cantina from here to Jakku." 

Cassian gave an apologetic pout at the pretty twi'lek, who didn't seem affected by his companion's dismissal of her. "I'm afraid my friend here has some more _exotic_ tastes. I’m thinking something big and flashy: something _dangerous_." He gave a knowing leer at Kallus, all a show for their twi'lek server, and maybe a little amusement for himself, as she sized up Kallus for herself. It was as if she could sense his tastes from sight alone. 

Kallus frowned under the scrutiny and tilted his head up to sniff arrogantly, eyes unimpressed but fixed on the stage, where a nautolan was taking off the last part of their outfit while they dangled upside down on the pole. Their multiple head tendrils swung freely, among _other_ parts of their anatomy. It was a pleasant sight. 

"I heard you have something new. Perhaps _they_ will satisfy my friend's tastes?" Cassian leadingly asked, being as polite as he could. He knew it could get him far in a place where the patrons could be rude and demanding. "Maybe something with some… _fur?"_

Cassian and the twi'lek both looked at Kallus, whose ears reddened, obviously beyond his control. Oh yes, Cassian had made the right decision in choosing his mission partner. 

"You are in luck. I guarantee the next show will catch _Sir's_ eye." She gave a little mock salute behind Kallus’ back and winked at Cassian. "I'll be back with your drinks soon."

"Thank you, _my lovely, luminous_ _pearl._ " Cassian settled back in his seat, immediately assessing the interaction. It had been a small but poignant confirmation that this was not the first time the employees dealt with 'incognito' Imperial officers looking for a good time. 

"Must you?" Kallus hissed low, crossing and uncrossing his arms, unable to settle on a position. 

"Must I what?" Cassian asked innocently. 

"You know exactly what, _my pearl._ " Kallus repeated the nickname in Ryl with a roll of his eyes. Cassian knew he spoke a few languages, as he did, but didn't know he knew Ryl. Huh, he was learning something new about the other fulcrum more and more. 

“I’m just being friendly,” Cassian replied, deciding that maybe he was going a bit overboard with the teasing, even if it was all in character. He left Kallus to brood as he took to scanning the audience once more, the room in a bit of a lull as acts swapped out for fresh entertainers. 

He noted the majority of the audience was human, not surprising as it seemed to cater to them with promises of something wild and exotic, maybe even taboo for some cultures. This was something that greatly interested him, and more so the greater Rebellion, as this exact establishment would be a haven to any repressed, high ranking Imperial officers; especially since they would be the ones with the deeper pockets and power to keep their visits a secret. 

Their fellow Rebel had rooted themselves inside this particular club just a week ago, to get the inside intel needed to determine if this would be a good place to plant some spies. Cassian had suspected it would be, and it didn’t take much convincing with his superiors to give the go ahead for the operation -as long as he was able to recruit an alien willing to participate. Not just any alien either, as the club was known for its exceptional variety and its alluring rarities. 

So Cassian asked the rarest alien he knew was available in service of the Rebellion: the lasat spectre under Hera Syndulla’s command, one Garazeb Orrelios. 

At first, Orrelios was to simply interview at the clubs, but soon the lasat himself suggested something a little more _deep_ undercover. Maybe it was bravado to show he was more than just muscle, maybe he was just bored between his spectre work; it didn’t matter to Cassian _what_ motives drove the lasat to intelligence work and their particular assignment, only that he had agreed, with enthusiasm. 

Definitely a rarity, and even in the vast diversity of the alien clubs on Nar Shaddaa, lasats were an uncommon sight. Also being a proud, warrior species it was even more unlikely they would be _willingly_ employed in such a place as a strip club. This all worked in the mission’s favor. 

An announcer came on over the rhythmic, mellow music to point out to the crowd that they were in for a treat. "A rare specimen. The Lasat! Just look at his stripes and fur, look at his _claws_!" 

Their fellow undercover rebel appeared, stealing the gazes of many in the audience as he strutted to put himself right at the end of the stage. The big purple alien flexed, showing off to the crowd proudly and with surprising poise. Claws fully extended, sharp tips catching the strobe of a light from above, he circled around with his hands in the air as if he had just won some great victory over an opponent. His mouth was wide and menacing as he growled and gave everyone a full view of the V's of dark stripes down his back as he walked back to the large pole in the middle of the stage. 

The lasat was already pretty exposed, wearing only a tight, and _small_ , piece of green 'underwear' around his groin area. From what Cassian could see, there wasn't much of anything beneath the neon green garment. Yet. 

He also noticed the alert and fixated gaze that Kallus was issuing the lasat. There was a mixture of seriousness and awe on his angular face, and Cassian almost felt bad for his obviously smitten ogling. _Almost_. 

The twi’lek server was back with their drinks, and Cassian gently caught her arm before she could depart. He spoke again to her in Ryl, “ _I think my friend here will be thirsty for more than just a drink and a show. Maybe you can set up something private for us involving this dancer?”_

Her smile faltered for the first time that night. She recovered quickly enough to hesitantly reply in basic, “He is very popular…” 

“I’m sure he is.” Cassian nodded and made a show of twirling the credit chip in his hand for her to see. 

“B-but it _is_ slower tonight. Maybe I can get you… _second dance?”_

A quick transfer and another wink later, Cassian had their private dance with the lasat already in the works. He was sipping his whiskey when the show began with a flourish of movement from the lasat rebel on stage. 

Orrelios grabbed the pole and flung himself up it, using his muscles and dexterous feet and hands to swing and twirl around in a dizzying opening move. 

While Cassian was trying to appear casual and unimpressed (though he couldn't help but double-take a look at the hutt undulating on the adjacent stage) his companion's gaze was pointedly fixed forward, as it had been as soon as the lasat had appeared, along with many others in the awaiting audience. Cassian side-eyed Kallus, noticing the flush to his cheeks and the quickening of his breath, even in the dim lights of the club. He was an observant man -sometimes _too_ observant- because he _really_ didn’t need to know that Kallus was currently sporting a very _real_ erection in his trousers. 

This was, funnily, yet another reason that Cassian requested he be assigned with the other man. Pretty much _no_ part of Kallus' reaction was an act; he already knew before the mission that his friend was utterly infatuated with Orrelios. Cassian knew it, and _hells,_ practically _all_ of Yavin IV knew it some days. 

Everyone _but_ them _,_ it seemed. 

"Caught your eye? He's good, _very_ flexible. And those _claws_ ," Cassian remarked, leaning over to say it in Kallus' ear. He was sure not to be too quiet, however: that would be suspicious. He was simply being an instigator to his client; he was pretending to be impatient to be paid, after all. “I’ve already set something up for you after the show, if you’d like.”

Kallus hissed: "Yes, _fine_ , now _shut up!"_

Cassian almost laughed, settling for a knowing smirk instead. Before their departure, Kallus had voiced his displeasure at the fact that his _friend_ would be so openly degraded during a mission that _he agreed to_ (it _had_ been mostly Orrelios’ idea, actually). Funny, how Kallus’ hungry scrutiny was anything but innocent as _he_ watched his _friend_ now, flexing and moving on stage. 

The lasat began to sway and spin next, holding on with only one arm as his body rolled against the rod of metal in a sensuous movement. The music began ramping up to a beat so deep that Cassian felt the thud at the bottom of his sternum. He realized that Orrelios was _good_. The man was athletic, and could move about the pole in acrobatic and fluid spins. His prehensile feet provided a greater range of positions; lasat feet were made for aerial, more arboreal, maneuvers it seemed. The ease and confidence that he had on the pole was actually commendable. 

As absurd as it was, given what Cassian knew of the captain, Orrelios seemed like a _natural_. 

With a snarl that startled even Cassian, Orrelios leapt from the top of the pole to roll and land at the very edge of the stage. Everyone leaned back slightly in their chairs, the thrill of the handsome, growling beast lunging at them no doubt shocking (but ultimately appealing) to this specific crowd. 

Cassian noticed that Kallus had actually leaned _forward._

The lasat was on his knees, big clawed hands sliding down his furred legs to push his own thighs apart and he made an exaggerated, gasping trill as he did so. His hips undulated in the mimicry of sex, a finger from each hand trailing the outline of his underwear, teasing at the edges before he yanked the garment up, a dark spot and a distinct outline of _something_ poking against the fabric appearing. 

Cassian didn’t know much of lasat anatomy, but from the looks of it, most things were internal; and then, when aroused, those things would become very _external._

Orrelios cupped his own groin and began to rub at the area with exaggerated movements, in perfect time to the pounding beat of the music. His eyes were hooded, luminous green… and looking _directly at them._ Well, Cassian should amend that: because he knew Orrelios’ eyes were locked with Kallus and Kallus _only_. 

If Cassian wasn’t as observant as he was, he would have missed the almost vulnerable uptick of Orrelios’ brow as something unspoken passed between him and Kallus. But Cassian _was_ an observant man, so he didn’t miss it, nor what it did to his working partner. 

Kriffing hells, _these two_. 

Leaning back in his seat, Cassian let his eyes drift -again- to the hutt on the smaller stage to the right, bouncing and letting their tongue waggle down their chin, the textured skin becoming slimy from their own drool. He firmly, but discreetly, kicked Kallus in the shin. _Stop eye-fucking your mission partner and be cool,_ he hoped he conveyed, _tone it down!_

Kallus cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, and tilted his head to glance down at his drink. He took a polite (so extremely small) sip from it, winced, and went back to watching the stage. Cassian sighed. 

Orrelios lifted his hand and growled again for the audience, his crotch region now engorged and wet against the fabric, a fullness and _slickness_ to the area clearly showing a change had begun to happen. But before he revealed anything more, he did a backwards flip and landed on all fours, and began to make humping motions with an invisible partner below him, movements -impressively- still in time with the music. Powerful arms held the lasat up, muscles constricting with every full-body grind, the jiggle of his balls accentuated in the squatted position, the fabric loose but clinging enough to outline them and the head of his extending cock. 

Cassian idly wondered if hutts had similar anatomy. Was it hidden, would it need to come out too? 

His attention snapped back to the lasat as he was back at the pole, first bending himself over and squeezing the rod between two firm asscheeks and flexing. Thick, pliant legs twisted him upwards, the pole riding between his thighs and along his ass as he did so. Once all the way to the top, he began more spins and twirls, these ones more gravity-defying and dangerous than before. 

There were moments when not a single hand or foot touched the metal, the lasat held aloft by the strength of his thighs or an elbow. Sometimes it would seem like he would fly right off the pole, only to be tethered back to it in a swift, almost seemingly weightless motion. The only time his full weight was suggested to was when the sturdy pole vibrated and seemed to nudge slightly from the ceiling. 

Orrelios held the pole with one arm and began to undulate against it using his entire body, starting at his knees and rubbing all along the surface, his mouth slack and his eyes hooded. 

The routine wasn’t as involved as some of the others he had seen, but what it lacked in complexity it made up for with emphasis on his fearsome strength and undeniable flexibility as he carried out dangerous (but still sexy) maneuvers. 

When the music began to crescendo, signaling the finale was to start, Cassian watched as the lasat did the splits in the air, one side of his pelvis flush with the pole, pinching the underwear so that the growing contours of his emerging dick became more visible. He stopped midway down, where he repositioned, the rod of metal now at his back as he held on from behind.

Orrelios then gave a throaty, gasping roar, head thrust towards the ceiling, his body bowed in a tight curve from the rod, his arms holding onto the metal above his head, one big hand over the other, and toes pirouetted to either side below, spreading his legs out wide. The lasat’s hips were thrust forward, the apex of the full body arch, showing off the full outline of the big bulge in the bright green underwear. 

Cassian’s eyes went wide as the grand finale -quite literally- emerged on stage. 

There was an audible gasp through the crowd as the wet fabric tented and pulled away from the lasat's body as his erection shot out fully, extending in a frankly impressive burst of movement from his slit. It was obscene; it was… 

Next to him, Kallus made a strangled noise and jerked, awkwardly hunching in on himself, his hands scrambling at nothing and ending up clenched on his thighs. He cursed under his breath and shifted stiffly in his seat. 

_Had he just…?_

A cacophony of whoops and applause drowned out Cassian's snorted laugh as he watched Kallus pull at the fabric on his leg in some sort of strange attempt to fix his problem.

Cassian was an observant man, and sometimes he wished he wasn’t, because _yes_ -his mission partner _had_ _definitely_ just come in his pants. And he had done it all from watching their other mission partner up on stage _during_ their mission. _Great_. 

If it wasn't so deliciously _appropriate_ , Cassian might have considered this a breach of protocol and decorum (and professionalism) even during such a torrid mission as this. As it was, Kallus was fitting the bill of repressed, horny, core-world officer thirsty for alien cock _perfectly_ well. He wasn't even trying _not_ to be attracted to the lasat. Anyone watching would be fully convinced of their cover story. 

Looking away from a red-faced Kallus, Cassian watched Orrelios finish his routine by easing his way down the pole and opening his eyes to stare out to his rapt audience once more. He gave a sultry smile, flashing his fangs. He was breathing very heavily, and Cassian couldn’t help but notice that the lasat’s emerged dick had already slid a bit back into his slit -almost halfway- by the time he was peeling the scrap of fabric down to rest below his balls, giving the entire area of his sex a small lift from the elastic. 

Cassian also noticed that Kallus was -surprisingly- looking away, as if to spare their mission partner some dignity, which was frankly absurd at this point, in his own opinion. The man _had_ just orgasmed while watching the lasat strip in front of about fifty other patrons, after all. Kallus’ propriety was surely well and truly kriffed out of the airlock by now.

Orrelios strut back out to the edge of the stage, giving a bounce to his step as he did so. His eyes were slightly glazed as he scanned the crowd, winking in their general area. 

Trying to blend in with the rest of the crowd (save Kallus, hilariously) Cassian's gaze fixed on the exposed package now dangling out for all to see as the lasat purred and posed.

The lasat’s cock wasn’t _quite_ like a human’s with its nubs and ridges and bulbous head, the color of it dark and glistening with a slick shine in the stage light’s glow. The sheath was pretty non-human too, not to mention Cassian had heard mention of barbs and knots in passing talk. 

He wondered how much of that was _true_.

A few booths around in the audience changed color as creds were transferred over in tips for the lasat and his performance. Cassian was sure their own meager yellow glowed a shade brighter as well. He even let a little extra go to the stage on the right. 

Orrelios was looking back in their direction again as he tucked himself back into his sopping wet underwear and bowed languidly before disappearing through a curtain at the back of the stage. 

Cassian immediately stood and shot a disgruntled look at Kallus, who was still sitting awkwardly, his eyes pointedly not meeting his. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll see about getting you a private room with the _thing_.” 

Kallus didn’t say anything, but slinked his way from his seat and to the ‘freshers. 

Cassian confirmed the transaction and depleted nearly all their funds in the tip he gave their cerulean skinned twi’lek server. “Perhaps you would be interested in something more private too?” his _pearl_ offered. “I’m sure _Sir_ wouldn’t mind if you too indulged.” 

“We’ll see how _Sir’s_ mood is -after.” He tipped a single finger under her chin and winked charmingly, before saying in Ryl, “ _By the light of the three Nubian moons, you are a true pearl among the waves._ ”

As cheesy as it was, he got a bright smile from the twi’lek. Hopefully she would remember it enough that if she became an ally, it would be something to trigger awareness. 

When Kallus finally emerged from the ‘freshers, water was still clinging to his mutton chops where he had obviously splashed his face to try and cool the flush still evident on his cheeks. Cassian didn’t mention his indiscretion during the end of the dance, and led him back to the private rooms. The faintly musky smell of the club grew in intensity when they walked through the hallway that led to ‘private’ rooms with no doors and seats near the far wall, facing the door. They passed a few rooms occupied with one (or two) being shows, a variety of music playing, all choices by the specific customer, probably.

At the second-to-last door, Cassian noted a purple blur of movement as they walked by. The armed bouncer at the door was blocking most of what was happening in there, but the shape and color of the dancer was unmistakable. Orrelios was obviously still finishing up his first private dance of the night. Cassian was sure to give a friendly nod to the bouncer, to which he got a lingering glare back. 

They settled into the next room, Kallus looking nervous and on edge as he carefully took a seat right in the center of the loveseat, which was made of a nicer-looking fabric than the ordinary seating out in the main room. Cassian knew Kallus had also seen that Orrelios was just next door, entertaining _someone else_ , and that was the reason for his agitation. Alone for the moment, but still wary of listening devices and anyone lurking out in the hallway, Cassian approached Kallus and gave him another scrutinizing once-over. 

“I can get the dance from him instead,” he offered. 

“No!” Kallus snapped, his golden eyes sharply darting up at him. His gaze cut away in shame a moment later when Cassian held that gaze for a long, serious moment. 

_I see right through you. And if you don’t shape up, I’ll end the mission and we'll leave right now_ , was what Cassian was warning. Judging by his reaction, Kallus seemed to have read that message perfectly. Not that he expected that he _would_ scrub the mission this far into it, but he still _could,_ and the intent was clear: _play your part well and I'll let you have this, even if we already have the info we need._

The music from next door stopped and Cassian took a spot right at the open doorway. 

The human bouncer sauntered over and planted himself right next to Cassian. He was big and intimidating, but Cassian knew sometimes it was all for show. “He’ll be here inna sec, he’s gettin’ cleaned up,” the bouncer told them both in a backwater drawl. Cassian nodded and pursed his lips. While wild space locals weren’t particularly known for their Imperial loyalties, there still existed places like the Myomar Academy. He best still be on guard while he attempted to get more information from him. 

Before he could think more about how to engage the bouncer, Cassian noticed Kallus straighten up and look at the doorway as his entertainer entered the room.

Even as disrobed as he was, the lasat was a _massive_ presence, drawing the attention of all three of the humans in the room. Cassian noticed he had on a new set of ‘underwear’ -this garment no more than a fancy, silk loincloth- tied together at the sides with golden roping and decorative (but obviously fake) jewels. He stalked into the room fully, his eyes locked ahead and on Kallus, ignoring Cassian and the bouncer at the door frame. He approached with tantalizing steps, the calculated slowness of a predator stalking prey. 

Soon, Orrelios’ impressive frame was obscuring Kallus from view, except for the crook of two knees on either side as the other fulcrum agent spread his legs wide to accommodate the lasat as he got closer and closer. 

“Hello handsome. Only one rule in here: I can touch you, but you can’t touch me. If you wanna touch yourself, go fer it, just don’t get any of it on me. Got it?” Orrelios purred; and if Kallus answered or gave any acknowledgement, Cassian didn’t hear it, because music cued up and began at a slower beat than most of the other songs he could still faintly hear. 

If Cassian thought watching Orrelios on _stage_ was an awkward sight, the _much_ more intimate private dance seemed downright intrusive. Especially since they were his fellow Rebellion operatives, and he was certain that they both harbored feelings for each other. 

Cassian turned and leaned on the inside of the door frame, mirroring the bouncer’s position, and picked at his nails and acted bored. He attempted to appear unimpressed with the way that Orrelios nearly pounced and mounted himself over Kallus where he sat. The big lasat rubbed himself all over the man before scratching claws over his clothes, pulling a surprised squawk from the former Imperial as he came just shy of actually tearing the fabric. 

Orrelios pushed Kallus' head to the side so that he could growl against his neck and pant hotly into his exposed skin. And, as Cassian was an observant man, he could see that the fellow rebel was now _whispering_ into Kallus' ear. 

To anyone else, he might have been saying sweet nothings or even some kind of dark threat that was part of the act of a fearsome beast. If Cassian couldn't make out what was being exchanged over the music, it was unlikely the bouncer could either; and judging from the other man's stance, he didn't suspect anything other than the regular debauchery was happening on the loveseat. 

The lasat curled and flexed with every beat of the exotic music. His arms and legs moved sinuously, and his hips snapped forward and impacted against Kallus' chest to the rhythm. He made a show of coming close to Kallus’ neck and snarling, flashing his fangs as if he were going to bite him, with the clap of teeth as his jaw snapped shut _just_ shy of making contact clicking sharp in the stuffy, humid air. 

Cassian turned and studied the bouncer a little closer. He was muscular, armed with a stun blaster, but his exposed skin was not scarred and calloused like a mercenary's would be. He was mostly for show, then. He _looked_ intimidating, sure, but still young and probably green to be working in hutt space. Cassian could work with that.

“Hands!” the bouncer warned, his boxy head tipped to face the couple.

Cassian looked over as well and saw a pair of hands at the lasat’s waist, pale fingers in darkly striped fur, give a startled hitch and pop into the air as if in surrender. Orrelios gave a sultry chuckle, his pelvis now grinding forward and back on Kallus’ lap, making grazing contact, the flap of the loincloth on his backside swishing rhythmically with the movement. The lasat did not seem phased in the least by the interjection.

“He’s okay, Flipp, he’ll be a good man and put those hands up above his head an’ keep ‘em there.” Orrelios growled menacingly, the vibration loud enough to be heard over the music. “He’ll be _real good_ fer me, won’t he?” 

Cassian watched those hands fly to the seatback behind his head as if shackled and he heard the sharp crunch of thick fabric underneath strong fingers. His eyebrow ticked up and he gave an amused look over at the bouncer, who seemed to settle down a fraction, a smirk on his face matching his own. 

“Big guy like that,” Cassian said softly to the other man after a moment, shifting his accent to sound more like his, “makes your job easier, huh - _Flipp_ was it?" 

At first, Flipp didn’t seem keen to engage; but after giving Cassian a full once over, and seemingly liking what he saw, tilted his head and gave a single nod. He leaned a couple inches closer. “Sometimes I think I’m more here for the clients’ sake. Let ‘em think I’m here to hold _him_ back.” 

He watched for a moment as Orrelios gripped a bar attached to the ceiling and did some moves, his feet planted next to Kallus’ head, his crotch almost flush with his face.

“This guy gets a little _wild_ , huh?” He nodded towards them. “He’ll like that.”

“Surprisin’ how many of ‘em do,” Flipp said and Cassian nodded sympathetically. “The lasat’s been popular with the thrill seekers.”

“It’s all show though, right? He wouldn’t _really_ …?” Cassian made a move as if concerned, and the bouncer shook his head and raised a placating hand. 

“You know how it is, gotta keep up the act,” Flipp whispered, the back of his hand up as if to block his words. “We like their hearts racin’ not stoppin’. Want them to come back again and again, ‘specially the big spenders. Core world types. _You know_.” 

“Like _my_ guy,” Cassian agreed. “Maybe when he’s promoted, he’ll come back, and with a bigger cred chip. That’s what I’ve been bettin’ on.” 

“Some bet. You never know with…” Flipp mouthed the word ‘Imps’ and waggled his eyebrows. 

Cassian felt an inner thrill as the conversation was very much steering in his favor. “What, you think I’m puttin’ all my creds on the wrong dice roll?” 

“Nah, I’m just sayin’ pick ‘em wisely. Too low a rank, not worth your time -they’re here for a one-time fling, blow that first big stipend and then it’s back to the grind,” Flipp explained and Cassian pretended like he was eating it up, nodding in interest. “Too high a rank? Same thing. Only _they_ wanna protect their reputations, so they’re less likely to get an _in_ -man, guys like you, guys who’ll talk.” 

“ _I_ wouldn’t talk,” Cassian scoffed. 

“They don’t know that. They don’t trust guys like us. Never will.”

“You’re right,” he looked in his eyes and gave a thankful nod in his direction. “Thank you.” 

Cassian turned his head a fraction when he heard Orrelios talking loudly just what he’d do to the man he was grinding atop of had they been truly fucking. The end of the private session must be approaching, as there was no longer any semblance of a ‘dance’ happening on the bench between the two men. 

By all appearance (except that Kallus was fully clothed) they were kriffing. Orrelios wasn’t moving with the music any more, but rather at an erratic pace; he was a creature seeking climax, roughly slapping his body up and down on his partner's lap, hard enough that it looked bruising.

“I’d kriff ya, I’d kriff ya _so hard_. You got a tight ass fer me to kriff? Huh, handsome? A tight ass for my huge xeno cock?” Orrelios growled and there was a ragged gasp with a whimpered exhale that answered him. “It gets bigger too, when I’m deep inside and it’s _good_ -I’ll fill a tight ass like yours to _burstin’_ with my knot!"

Cassian gave a wide-eyed amused look to Flipp, who made a mock-scandalized face back at him. 

"He's not usually this chatty," Flipp whispered. "Seems particularly _enthusiastic_ tonight." 

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean did you _see_ his show? It's not usually like that. Like _this_." Flipp gestured to the pair, their hips grinding feverishly. 

"Must be a good night for him," Cassian said and shrugged nonchalantly, but inside he was tense and lamenting his mission partner's 'undercover' decorum. Maybe the mission would have been smoother if they had released their sexual tension _before_ heading to Nar Shaddaa. Or maybe he should have picked someone else -anyone _not_ Kallus. 

Orrelios began to grunt and groan and continued to speak filthy things to the man under him that threatened to bring a blush even to _his_ face. 

He wasn’t sure he could look at Captain Orrelios the same after this, and that said a lot for someone like himself, who had seen the best and worst of people as they did the literal dirty work for the Rebellion. It wasn’t because of the words themselves, or the way he moved and exposed himself, it was that _with Kallus_ -he probably _meant_ all those words, too. 

Cassian pointedly looked straight ahead, just to the top of Flipp’s head, as a crescendo of moans and movement filled the small room. He watched as Flipp's jaw dropped open when there was the distinct sound of claws shredding fabric. 

The bouncer’s hand tensed towards his stun blaster, hovering there when they both glanced over and saw that the lasat had torn through the cushion of the seat, big gouges exposing white, densely-packed stuffing on either side of Kallus. 

" _Oh, kri_ -FUCK!" Came Kallus' pitched voice at the same time Orrelios whined the lasat trademark curse: _“Karabast!”_

Then there was a distinct 'end' as both men on the loveseat stopped moving but for their gulps of air that swayed their bodies on the waves of mutual pleasure. 

Kallus' hands fell unceremoniously from their iron grip above on the loveseat's back and flopped on either side of him. Cassian almost thought he had passed out, but soon saw that his bleary eyes were open and glaring longingly up at Orrelios as he leaned back and began to extricate himself from the human. He was looking at the lasat as if they had just confessed their love, not as if they hadn't all but had sex in front of two other people, while 'undercover'. 

The observant part of Cassian also couldn't help but notice that as the lasat stood back from the shaking, _wrecked_ Kallus (his powerful legs trembling too) that thick ropes of a viscous liquid dripped from between his legs, leaving a mess on the floor. 

Cassian screwed his face into a grimace, not hard to fake, as he noticed the same liquid dripping down the front of the dark fabric of Kallus’ outfit. 

"Sorry, handsome, made a bit of a mess there," Orrelios rumbled to Kallus and then stepped further away and towards the doorway. He rolled his shoulders and gave a sheepish look at Cassian and Flipp. 

Cassian ticked up one shoulder, “It is what it is. He doesn't look disappointed.” 

All three looked at Kallus, who had his eyes closed, his head fallen back as if he had gone to sleep, looking completely satisfied and spent. He was still gulping for air, and was licking the sweat from his lips: the only indication he was still conscious.

"Yeah, but _that's_ coming outta _your_ paycheck," Flipp said to the lasat as he passed by to exit, jerking his thumb to the ruined loveseat. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Orrelios sighed and walked past them. “Like _he_ said, the customer isn’t disappointed, is he? Looks quite the opposite.” 

“Uh huh,” Flipp replied, dead-panned. Before the bouncer continued to follow Orrelios to the backstage area, he turned to Cassian. "Best of luck with your _dice roll_ , my friend." 

Cassian didn't shake his hand. Fellow scoundrels didn't shake hands. He gave him a crooked smile and a wink instead. Flipp the bouncer _blushed_ and returned the smirk before ducking through the curtains, following Orrelios. 

_Huh,_ he thought, a tiny bit surprised at that reaction. 

All in all, Cassian considered the mission a success. It didn't really matter what else Orrelios had to report on; as long as the staff and dancers weren't all secret Imperial sympathizers and the club wasn't a direct funnel for a syndicate, they were golden. This didn't mean he wasn't going to absolutely give Kallus a hard time about his and Orrelios' behavior. 

Kallus had seemed to regain his composure -as much as one could after such an encounter- as he was wiping off his front as best he could with a pocket tissue, and standing to make his way over to him. “I think I’m quite through for tonight,” Kallus said to him, barely staying in character as they made their way out of the club. “Let’s go.” 

Even in the foul smelling, dank night-life of the planet, Kallus still seemed to breathe a sigh of relief once they were clear of the booming sounds and flashing lights of the club. Even in the fluorescent neons of the flashing advertisements outside, the other man’s face was an easy read.

“We could stop at a bathhouse, get cleaned up?” Cassian offered, knowing their ship didn’t have much in the way of a nice refresher. Besides, it wasn’t uncommon -for who he was pretending to be- to stop and go to such a place to get ‘clean’ again. Especially the kind with cum still on their clothes. 

Kallus shook his head sharply, blonde locks falling in his face from where they had been knocked loose. The light hair of his companion seemed to pick up every color of the glowing atmosphere as they passed by clubs and restaurants and made their way to the spaceport in silence. Once past security and to the landing platform of their ship, they boarded and did a quick sweep for any devices before Cassian gave the hand sign that they were clear and safe to talk.

“Other than being demeaned and _defiled_ every night, he is safe, he’s... _good_ ,” Kallus told him.

Cassian raised a brow at the vehemence in his voice. _Especially_ since Kallus had pretty much just participated in a form of defiling of his own. “Good,” he repeated. Orrelios hadn’t used the signal that he was in trouble, so he already knew this much, but figured he’d let Kallus ‘debrief’ him without any comment on that. Seems like his fellow fulcrum agent was deciding to have this conversation now, in his soiled clothes, no less. 

“Said he’ll leave tonight and rendezvous at the pickup point in exactly ten hours. We’ll get the rest of the intel then. But it looks promising. The owners of this club are no more Imperial sympathizers than we are. They keep the clients happy enough to earn their credits, no more,” Kallus explained (as if Cassian hadn’t gleaned that for himself). 

“We could plant an operative, then. Someone more long-term to gather information,” Cassian said. He thought: _someone not a certain lasat you’re head over heels for._ That would certainly not go over well, even Cassian knew that, and he had only briefly entertained the thought of asking Orrelios to take the long-term assignment. 

“Agreed,” Kallus said; and there was a long beat of quiet as they both stood there in the cramped space that served as the galley and social area of the small ship. They faced each other in silence. 

“Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll monitor the local chatter,” Cassian finally said to break the stagnant, awkward pause. He knew Kallus had to be uncomfortable, and surely, even their meager refresher could afford him a sonic and a fresh pair of clothes. 

Kallus nodded and left the vicinity quickly for one of the refreshers in the crew quarters. 

Finally alone, Cassian let out a large puff of air and sagged in relief. For a moment he really, _really_ wished that he had talked Kallus into a bathhouse visit. A good, steamy soak sounded really good right about now; if only to clear the smell of grime and sex from his nose and to feel clean in a way he could never achieve, even if he spent _hours_ in the base’s showers on Yavin IV. He wondered what it would feel like in this very moment to have that small, but poignant, reprieve from the hard life he lived _for_ the Rebellion -every day. 

And for a self-indulgent moment, Cassian also wondered if hutts were aquatic. 

* * *


	2. Epilogue

* * *

Cassian watched the swirls of hyperspace out the viewport of the ship as they headed back to Yavin IV. The extraction of their fellow Rebel operative had gone smoothly, despite a small delay on Orrelios’ end due to some traffic near the spaceport. The wait had worried his companion, however, and the former Imperial had nearly paced an indentation into the floor of the ship’s cargo bay awaiting the lasat’s arrival. 

Once they were well on their way into the first of many hyperspace jumps, Orrelios had confirmed what Cassian had already surmised: the club was a perfect spot for an operative, since the staff were not Imperial sympathizers and looked down on slavers, for that matter. Also it was pretty well confirmed that Imperial officers, some high ranking and some not, were known to frequent the place on a fairly regular basis. 

Mission success. 

Something clattered to the floor in the distance, on the other side of the closed door to the cockpit, along with some other muffled sounds.

Cassian leaned further back into the pilot's chair and tried not to think too hard of what he knew was happening back there; what was probably happening just _meters_ away from where he sat. 

There was a reunion taking place on the other side of that door; one Cassian had thought he was fully prepared to _deal with_ , given what had happened during their mission. Something had tipped during their visit between the two, and he had figured once reunited that they would finally resolve whatever it was they had been dancing around. He was almost surprised that they hadn't run into each other's arms once Orrelios had stepped foot onboard, looking haggard but relieved at the same time. But they had been professional in front of him: greeting each other as if it were any other normal mission. 

The two of them were not in front of him _now._

A rhythmic thumping began, with the sound just loud enough to be heard over the whine of the engines and whorl of hyperspace travel. He would have thought it was a mechanical issue, given the steady thud and errant, concerning noise, but he knew _exactly_ what it was; and he wasn't about to go investigate. 

Whether it was against a wall, into the bunk, or over a table, they were definitely, _assuredly_ , kriffing each other's brains out. _Quite_ thoroughly. 

He honestly wondered if the lasat had been at all traumatized, being subject to such exposing and degrading acts, private dances for high-paying customers that were surely not as _easy_ as Kallus' had been. Cassian wasn't sure, if he had been in his position, if he'd even _want_ to be touched sexually so soon after a mission, even with a being he had feelings for. But Cassian wasn't Orrelios, and Cassian wasn't Kallus. 

Perhaps Kallus was offering Orrelios control over his body: letting the lasat do as _he_ pleased instead of putting on a show for others to get off on. Perhaps Orrelios wasn't that sensitive: maybe he _liked_ the performances he put on every night for strangers. Perhaps Orrelios was even relenting to the control that Kallus offered, and the two were not simply fucking now, but being _intimate_ ; making love. 

Something else thunked to the durasteel flooring of the ship.

Perhaps they could have at their beautiful and affirming love-making with a little bit more _subtlety_ , though. For _his_ sake. 

But Cassian Andor had always been an observant man; and despite knowing _exactly_ what was happening back there, he couldn't help his lips from tugging into a smile. He closed his eyes, and awaited the next jump. 

* * *


End file.
